Manor of Silence
by Louis Denair
Summary: A Lovecraftian story about a long since forsaken mansion and the dark secrets held within behind its vermininfested walls of grey and green.


**The Manor of Silence **

_by Louis Denair_

Ah, silence, such a horrible plaque, the mere sound of it can induce apprehension far superior to any word spoken aloud, and its very existence gives way to a series of mental maladies that, with its great aid, ferociously take ascendance over one's mind. I have neither the means nor the strength to speak of what I have experienced, yet perhaps the blessing that was endowed upon me in as relatively petty an array of objects as the pen and paper, perhaps these shall grant me some relief from the thoughts that occur within my mind and from the whispers that now and then echo within my ears, otherwise I may well soon be deprived of the little that is left of my sanity.

I sit in my study and think of my surroundings, hasten to piece the pieces of my mind together so as to once more achieve a sense of reason and sanity. Through the past days, of which number I cannot possibly estimate for time has recently lost its ordinary regularity, my senses have continued to evolve and sharpen to the very extremities. My own reason or imagination, of which two the latter is more preferable, has taken me to a realm where no man could put foot and live to tell of its bizarre nature. In this place in an indefinite location where time seems to flow as if in a certain rebellion to the norms that reign in our own universe, in this twisted place I have seen and heard atrocities that no ordinary man could have ever conceived in his wildest dreams. Nor could any human being ever crave to learn of its existence. It is my firm belief that I have seen what I ought not have seen and I have heard with my sharpened ears sounds so horrible, so unimaginable in the terror they spread through human minds that only the wildest, most incredible creature could emit. I weep for fear of my life and I may easily swear that as I hearken from time to time I can faintly hear venomous laughter, inhuman and disarranged, emit from within the walls and ceilings. They, whoever they be, must truly mock me, for I can hear them cringe with delight as I whine for fear…

The day when I turned the ancient key in the sordid gate that gave way to the mysteries that dwelled within my newly acquired manor was a day of utmost singularity in almost every particular. The light was oddly scarce at that time and the weather had never before been so disturbing and varied. At one time the sky was crystal clear and not a single cloud could dampen the scorching sun's blistering rays. Then in a most awkwardly rapid manner the sky would shroud in clouds black as opals at night and heavy rain would fall with utmost ferocity upon every unlucky soul that happened to witness the disturbing change of climate. Coarse lighting would erupt as if from void and pierce inevitably through the stormy sky. Wind would blow as it had never blown before, striking the birds from the sky, recklessly blowing the trees back and forth until not a single leaf remained to adorn their bare skeleton. These contrasting states of weather would change momentously in an interval of but an hour or so, it was almost as if nature herself struggled to manifest her steady decline in the troubling behavior of her children.

I stood motionless in the passage the black metal gate gave a way to. The gateway itself seemed excessively welcoming as it stood open before my arid eyes. This singularity riveted my attention to a small metal plate that, upon closer examination, revealed a small engraving of which content was barely readable due to it's being heavily stained in rust. The text that had been carefully enclosed within the plate's borders ages ago consisted of what seemed to be a short book quota, which read so:

" Oh Icarus thou hath so dearly hastened to touch the sky and now you lay, a decaying body hidden within the abysmal depths of sea"

The engraving seemed at the first glare relatively insignificant as to the dreary building that now stood before my eyes, gloom and grave, almost terrifying in its singular utmost silence, yet something in it's tone caused a chill of horror run down my spine as its dreary phrases slowly echoed in my mind. Having decided to forgo further pondering, I slowly passed through to find myself on a squalid cobblestone path which lead to the main entrance. As I walked on I noticed with the corner of my eye, for I dared not look closer, what seemed to have been a garden, but now it was but a place of abandoned hope where only ancient weeds and bare trees shared their inevitable decay. Suddenly another thunder bolt struck down from the sky illuminating the rotten garden to reveal a horribly crude and disfigured piece of marble buried deep in the ground that seemed upon closer glare to be a tombstone marking the grave of a long since dead tenant of the bed of eternal rest which lay, I hoped, untouched for centuries in the ground beneath an epitaph so long eroded by damp air that now but an array of meaningless scratches could be spotted on the tombstone's surface, unreadable and long since forgotten. As I looked upwards, in hope of leaving that oppressive sight in oblivion, I saw five towers brooding in solemn silence over the late tenants of its cemetery. I had, as of then, begun to gather a peculiar kind of apprehension of which nature I could not specify. Every detail of my newly acquired possession seemed to induce a certain sentiment of awkwardness and anxiety which haunted and disturbed me to the very limits of my psychic.

Due to the heavy rain and the unbearably tense atmosphere that arose in the air, I decided to quickly run for shelter. Hoping to regain my strength within the safe enclosure of the manor I quickly dashed towards the staircase that spread wide beneath my feet. Finally I flung the door open and entered the building. What I saw therein I still fearfully remember, the interior seemed to have stayed untouched for ages as if time had long since ceased its influence therein. Everything was terrifyingly motionless, not a fly, not a single living being seemed to have touched the surface of the vast lobby that I now stood in, trembling not only for cold but for a sudden surge of anxiety that grew within my heart on my seeing the state of the interior. Dust, of course, covered every surface but the furniture, the paintings and the walls that still stood prominently were all as if the teeth of time had stopped their destructive doings on the house from the moment its construction was finished. Pure, horrifying silence lent the place an aura of alienation and seclusion, broken only by the moaning wind that blew from various recesses scattered around the otherwise gravely lifeless residence. Suddenly a feeling of loneliness surged in my heart and I deeply desired to abandon the place and return never to face its dreary corridors again. Try as I might, pure curiosity condemned me to continue my ventures regardless of potential encounters that I might meet within.

In my sudden rush of discovery spent all day wandering through the unfathomable labyrinth of the gloom, dark corridors formed around the premises. I sought any possible information regarding its previous inhabitants yet I found not a single point of relay to continue my avid research. Not a single trace of previous life was to be found, save for the wide array of portraits that adorned the walls. Alas, these paintings provided me with very little, save for the feeling of uneasiness as I looked in the eyes of the glum and woeful people whose pallid faces were so cruelly depicted within the paintings' golden frames. They looked sad and filled with sorrow and they seemed to gaze at me with vivid desperation in their eyes, as if silently crying for help. Days if not weeks have passed and that sentiment still preoccupies my mind.

Even though I was mad with desire to know more about the residence, I was finally overcome by sleep and lay down upon the large, ornamental bed that stood in my new bedroom, whose walls confided within a room as blank and lifeless as the rest of the house, decorated by but a few paintings of little significance and a small, round wooden table near the bed.

In my dreams my mind had spun, I saw countless depths of darkness permeating the view in each and every direction. This unusual dullness continued its reign for what seemed to be a an eternity to be finally disturbed by a spine-chilling, horrifying shriek that seemed to pierce my ears. Cold with perspiration, I frantically awoke once more to the gloom reality. However, no sooner had I managed to convince my senses that it had been only an unusually vivid dream, than the shriek voice once more struck my ears. Just as I managed to stand on my legs and wait in anticipation for horrors unfathomable to enter the room, the voice that had so ferociously haunted me, now ceased as quickly as it had begun. Having been so abruptly awoken from my disturbing dream, I could no longer bear to sleep again. I silently left the safe seclusion of my room and sneakily made my way towards the end of the hallway from where the monstrous voice seemed to have emitted, seeking what I hoped to be nothing but mere delusions and desiring nothing but a proof to fuel my hopeful belief and extinguish my foolish anxiety. As I moved, I moved slowly and with caution, for anxiety unreasonable and yet almost petrifying in its relentless ferocity. Finally I reached the door that stood at the end of the corridor. Seeing the door was slightly opened I gathered enough courage in my heart to dare peer through the narrow recess. Cold with perspiration, I looked inside and what I saw therein gave me enough warrant to discard any previous anxiety or disbelief with a sigh of relief. The room was by no means anything out of ordinary and seemed to have served as a study when the manor was still inhabited. The walls were rich with tapestries and various paintings while a wide variety of furniture adorned the wooden floor. Deep in the back of the room I noticed a large desk which had surely served a very educated man before for its surface was thoroughly covered in plentiful books of diverse subjects. Having made a note to myself to enjoy their perusal when the time and circumstances would allow, I noticed a golden oval-shaped mirror hanging on the wall to the right. Momentously it caught my deep attention as its frame was richly ornamented with strange and elaborate spectacles. Avidly desiring to inspect the scenes depicted on the mirror's frame, I moved closer to examine the nature of the depiction's contents. They seemed to tell the history of an aristocrat family that had lived in this house before, most of the drawings presented ordinary scenes from the family life but it was the last scene that caught my attention. What I saw there saddened me greatly for I learnt that the previous family, consisting of a loving couple and a child, had died in a horrible fire and not a single member, not even the child survived the tragedy. It was then that I deeply begun to ponder the oddly pristine state of the building, having realized that I had not seen a single trace of previous fire, not even any remaining ashes scattered around the house. Just as I contemplated the disturbing history of this manor, I saw in the mirror a face. Having started, I quickly turned around to face the newly spotted stranger but to my greatest shock I saw not a single trace of him standing in the room. Again I looked in the mirror and I saw the face once more, yet what a terribly disfigured face it was. What I saw looked like a face of a little baby, not more than a few months old. However, its skin was terribly crippled and pallid. Covered by scars and wrinkles, the nature of the face held very little if any resemblance to any human being. Its eyes were closed and its small mouth seemed to emit, drop by drop, some manner of thick substance that slowly oozed down the cripple's chin, leaving black scar-shaped traces on the already disfigured skin. It was then that I realized it must have been the very face of the child that had so horribly died, devoured by the blazing tongues of fire, his body had long since turned into ashes and ran now free as pure energy in the circle of life, yet his soul was trapped forever within the walls of the manor. Just as I began to adapt to the horribly queer nature of my situation, the baby opened its little eyes and, staring at me spitefully, gave a vent to the ghastly shriek scream that haunted my every thought ever since, even within my dreams.

I tried to flee, to escape from the wretched abyss I had thrown myself into, alas my efforts were in vain. The only door that led out of that torture chamber was close shut and locked. Try as I might, the wooden door would not have mercy on my threadbare soul, it stayed locked, enclosing me within the claustrophobia-inducing confides of what turned out to be the resting place of the child's troubled soul, yet its spirit could not rest and screamed and scratched its little fingers upon the surface of the mirror to run free and tell the world the atrocities it had had to endure.

Now I sit here, trembling and horrified. I have seen the face of evil, I have heard the shriek of terror haunt me day and night and every time when I dared look into the mirror I saw a screaming face of which every inch twitched in a spasm of horror and agony. When I look into the monster's contemptuous eyes I want to scream with it for I continue to realize that what I see is not a monster but a MAN whose existence has so terribly gone wrong. It is of no doubt that the child has long sought a new companion to share its agony and now it has found it and in its desperation it shall not release me from my personal hell, keeping me enslaved in this wretched abyss where the mere consciousness of your own existence tortures your soul with pure agony and pain no human being should endure and live without its soul resting in peace. The greatest torture I have to endure is that whenever I see the child's miserable countenance and seek to scream I realize that I have no means of doing so, for the baby, in its wrath, has stitched my mouth close so that now I suffer ,along with the child, the perpetual agony of silence. God have mercy on my soul! I have wandered where I should not have and now I suffer the unimaginable!


End file.
